Looking for Nantucket
by Li-Naga
Summary: Nantucket has become all weird and droopy suddenly! How could this be? Who did this to America? How do fix? Follow America on his valiant journey to rescue his hairy friend. err.. cowlick
1. Mahogany

Summary:Nantucket has become all weird and droopy suddenly! How could this be? Who did this to America? How do fix? Follow America on his valiant journey to rescue his hairy on audience.

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The person in the mirror stared at him in horror. Mouth open in a silent scream. God dammit shit. That person was him!  
He opened his mouth wider this time letting out an exodus of what the actual fuck.  
"HOLY F*CKING F*CK! NANTUCKET! NANTUCKET! SPEAK TO ME! IF YOU ARE STILL ALIVE TWITCH! PLEASE TWITCH!"  
America pressed his face closer to the mirror and concentrated on his golden-straw hair for any signs of life. Suddenly something feebly rose  
Up a few centimeters before shakily slumping back into the rest of his hair.  
"Oh no you don't!" Quickly, he grabbed after it, he was able to pull it out before Nantucket slipped away forever. He held it up above his head while looking into the mirror.  
"Who did this to ya buddy? Who? I WILL END THEM." He growled and spazzed, careful not to jostle his injured friend.  
Wait… Nantucket can't talk. Time for battle tactic #2. Intelligence resources.

England was in his nice little cottage enjoying a cup of tea when his door screamed bloody horror.  
"Bloody Hell! America you arse, what have you done to my door? That's mahogany!"  
America dusted himself off; brushing the so called mahogany off his impressive shoulders as England went off on his "bloody rant"!  
Bloody this, bloody that, so much blood. Whatever dude, Nantucket was fading! And not in the kinda good way like 'faded' but dying!  
"Shut UP, Trinket! I'm in the middle of calamity right now!" America shoved his blonde locks into England's face.  
" Look at my hair! Nantucket's almost gone!"  
England sputtered as he got some of the stale tasting hair into his mouth.  
"Are you daft! The only problem with your hair is that it smells like the dustbin! Did you even shower this morning? Go bathe, you smell like the streets!"  
"No, I didn't take a shower, I was too busy worrying about Nantucket! Wouldn't you freak out if you woke up with eyebrows that actually fit on you forehead?" America snickered at the cleverness of his own joke as he saw the Englishman's face gradually turn redder and redder. Wait for it…  
"Why you! America YOU WANKER! My eyebrows are not that big!" He began hitting his former charge as steam like tea came out of his normal sized ears. His eyebrows becoming dramatically larger in his British tea-fortified rage.  
America laughed obnoxiously as he blocked all of those weak poorly calculated punches.  
"Whatever dude, I'm leaving. France probably knows more about this than you anyway" He pushed England's assaulting hands away and made a mad dash for the door, making sure to step on the broken mahogany to add insult to injury.  
He was nearly halfway to another country when he heard the wails of a defeated man.  
"YOU GIT! GET BACK 'ERE AND FIGHT LIKE A PROPER GENTLEMAN!"


	2. Francey Pants was Quite at Ease

Chapter 2 Francey Pants

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Summary:Alfred rushes to France's house where he encounters Doctor Bonnefoy with some very enlightening advice.

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"Hey francey pants! I'm coming in!" America was preparing to battery ram himself right through France's classy ironwood door like a wild tractor when the door mysteriously opened revealing one, well, revealing Frenchman.

"Bonjour mon ami! I heard England's screams and knew you'd come to me eventually. Come to papa France, ohonhon~" It was horrifying. His arms and shirt were wide open for all the world to see. Thank Bejeebus his pants were still considered pants and not some weird frilly lingerie or leaves from some unidentifiable and unlucky Parisian fauna.

"Ahh! Where's the black bar? Have you no shame, man?!" America cried out as he fainted in the most Puritan fashion; his momentum from his trans-country run carrying his body right into the nudist's arms. Truly a sight to behold. The shirtless prince and his ugly damsel that could not handle the true beauty of the French.

The Parisian populace could only stare in both horror and subtle understanding as France dragged America into his prison-uh, home. As he invited America into his home warmly as any country should. It was plain courtesy really. He winked to his old neighbor Jenny who winked back. They were chill with each other for the most part.

"Uhh, mahogany…Nantucket…hella eyebrows…pervy old French man with a shriveled up…Shit!" America cursed as he was rudely awakened by a sharp smite with France's extra-long, extra hard baguette. "What the hell, France? Did you just slap me with your long ass bread?" America grumbled as he rubbed his chafed cheek. Geez that bread felt like sandpaper.

"No, young America." France began. "What you just got hit with is love! L'amour!" France brought the giant 2-footer to his mouth and shoved half of it down his throat and taking a great big bass bite. "L'amour is tasty." France declared before the rest of the bread disappeared down into his crotch reserves.

America gasped in barely concealed horror. "Gah! What? How? I don't want to know, okay? Dude no." Internally he screamed and tried to cleanse his face of whatever diseases one could get with direct exposure to France's crusty crotch bread.

France was not phased by the apparent shock written in bold cursive all over his former colony's face. He could have raised him better than this. "So, America, I know you 'ave been 'aving troubles with your hair."

America splayed himself all over the very convenient therapy bench that he was on. "Yeah. You know France-"

"Please, enough with the formalitites, call me Doctor."

"But ow!" He was swiftly shut up with another well timed swipe with the grace of France's crotch bread. "What the FLYING." He took a deep breath and let it out slowly. "Ok, Doc." France waved his crotch bread mockingly with one eyebrow raised.

"Doctor~" He sung as the baguette gave America the stink eye. An eye so stinky that it could only be obtained by spending months, maybe years, in Francey Pant's drawers. There was a terrible noise marked by a pained, "merde!"

The Frenchie was on the floor in seconds encountering waves of terrible agony instilled by America's steel-toed boots.

"You ow! Are definitely England's…" France managed to wheeze as the barrage suddenly stopped. "Ok, ok! I'll help you with your hair! How do you think I get mine so lovely?"

"Really?!" America lit up like the Christmas tree in Rockefeller center. "You can save Nantucket?" He scooped the pieces of France up from the ground and seated him on a leather chair near the therapist's bench. "I knew you were smarter than England, my man! What do I do?" America waited anxiously; eyes bright with excitement that he'll finally be able to have Nantucket rise once more back to the glorious beacon on his head.

France scrambled to put himself back together. He spent a generous amount of time fixing his hair and even settled with some very professional eye glasses for when he went into Doctor Bonnefoy mode. He deepened his voice and immediately took a dignified stance. He beckoned America to lean in close. _Yes. _His fingers whispered. _Nope, closer. _America frowned a bit as he suddenly found himself with his ear pressed to Doctor Bonnefoy's luscious lips.

Oh god, this better not be some kinky porno setup I swear.

" 'Ave you been…" the Doctor's voice wandered off for special effect and his patient rubbed his clammy hands on his pants. "…sexually active, Mr. Jones?" He sensually inquired. He pulled away to look at the frozen face and was tempted to hit it was his wonderful baguette. Refined eyebrows raised and lowered rapidly in a suggestive fashion and America blushed like a schoolgirl.

"What does that have to do with my hair!" He shouted as the spell was broken.

"It's okay Mr. Jones. We all have our embarrassing faults." Doctor Bonnefoy stated professionally. "However I am a doctor and I know what I am doing. You can confide in me. It will be much better for you in the end. S'il vous plait. I must properly diagnose you." He nodded to himself as if to confirm his credibility.

The embers in America's eyes died down a little and he sat back into his bench well beyond ashamed. He scratched the hair at the nape of his neck nervously.

"Hehe…Well ya see…"

"Alfred."

"Okay! Okay! You caught me! I haven't gotten any tail in years, alright? Just stop looking at me like I'm something that should be put out of my misery!" He hid his face in his hands and sobbed lightly- like a spring shower. "Don't call me Alfred." He added as an afterthought.

"Ssshhhh…It's okay Mr. Jones. You're in good hands." The Doctor patted his patient comfortingly. The strokes became longer and longer until it became awkward petting and he swatted the unwanted touch away.

"Please, Doc," France shivered. _Doctor! _He mentally roared. But he held it. "Please, how do I save Nantucket?" His patient was so cute looking up at him with such nice puppy eyes- blue as Neptune and stormy like the molten seas.

"I'm afraid…" France took his doctor disguise for extra effect and looked off into the Parisian sunset distantly. "You must satisfy your bodily urges." He sniffed and shook his head; blond locks swishing majestically.

"Wait." America gasped in enlightenment. "So you want me to take a dook and eat a hamburger? Will that bring Nantucket back?" His voice was so hopeful France nearly broke down. How could someone be so dense!

He slapped his hand to his head and slid it slowly down his face. "Non America. You have to ****. What? You give your depraved body ***. What! Why can't I talk about love?" America could only stare in horror as censor bars began violating his esteemed French doctor. How ironic.

"What?" He furrowed his eyebrows in concern. "What's going on France? Just tell me what I need to do and I'll be on my merry way.

"I can't!" France cried out as one of the more aggressive censors began dragging him out the door. "Save yourself America!" And just like that France was gone for good.

America put his right hand over his left breast patriotically. "I'll miss you, bud. Huh? What's this?" A tiny slip of paper was left on the ground- a legacy of Doctor Bonnefoy to be read by the hero of course!

He picked it up and read over the beautiful flowery cursive slowly. Savoring every syllable and every curve.

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_Dear Mr. Jones,_

_Due to unforeseeable circumstances I can no longer be your doctor but, this does not mean my efforts were in vain. You are dense as all hell and I hope it doesn't destroy you one day. Anyhow, you must satsifries all of your most sexual desires to help Nantucket rise to the beauty it once was again. Go find the most intimate love, mon ami. Remember to **** with your **** and do it so you can ********* with love and ****** also *******. I give up. _

_ Let's get it on,_

_ Doctor Francis Bonnefoy_

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"Hahaha! He said satisfries. Wait. WHAT." The paper fell to the ground and America's brain did as well. "You betrayed me!" He cried out in anguish as he fell to his knees. "This is some kinky porno setup and I'm the main character! NO! Doctor why?!"

In the far outer reaches of Heaven you could hear Doctor Bonnefoy's perverse laughter.

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**A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. Okay. So. Should there be horribly written sexy times in the future? I don't know myself and so I turn to you lovely viewers. I might have to change the rating soon. Anyhow, notice how things are getting progressively weirder? That's about the whole story. I work on this when I don't have the inspiration for my more serious works such as Pigs in a Pen[hinted usuk/ukus with Ushun?] (which I have been afraid to touch since last year) and The Fisherman and the Mermaid [Rusame] (Working on it). Please leave a tasty review and Fav/Follow. It do motivate me. **

**Side note: This is probably going to have characters be so ooc you cry. Until next time where Alfred might finally start on the saving of his most beauteous Nantucket!**


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